


bro, i just might

by castellowrites



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Crushes, Drinking, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-08-21 17:16:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8253904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castellowrites/pseuds/castellowrites
Summary: Lance’s fingers may or may not be itching to trace patterns on Hunk’s thigh. He wonders, wishes, prays that Hunk would make the brave first move and put his big warm hand over his.(also; Major in Hance, Minor in Sheith)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> my first hance-centric fic!!!????? YES  
> unbeta'd; all mistakes are mine  
> also it's late and i'm mentally poopy

“So when are you gonna stop playing around and finally ask Hunk out?”

Lance actually spits his drink. Keith mentally notes how the scene is unceremoniously ugly unlike how it usually is in movies, and it’s a real waste of coke.

When he finally regains composure, Lance says, “What?”

“Oh please, I’ve known you guys since high school,” Keith says into his red cup. “Kinda hard to miss all the sexual tension.”

What sexual tension? Lance swears nothing even close to romantic has transpired between him and his childhood friend. Okay, so there may have been times when Hunk made his chest swell or his cheeks burn, but those were just him alone – so _maybe_ he has a crush on his best friend, but he kind of has a crush on a lot of people as well??

Hunk and Lance – they’ve always been the best of friends so everything they did for the other always translated to platonic BFF things. Take for example the time Lance ditched two periods to ride his bike to the next nearest school to get Hunk the brand of cookies he’d been craving. Or maybe the time when Hunk spent a whole day grappling with a claw machine to get the stuffed lion Lance just happened to say was cute. Or how about the time Lance worked extra hours at his part time job to buy Hunk a new toolbox? Or when Hunk made a disco ball from scratch because Lance had offhandedly mentioned four months earlier that wanted one for his birthday?

All best friendly things. Nothing remotely romantic. How did dense Keith even arrive at sexual tension?

“Wow, Keith, you’ve only had what, like, two boyfriends?” Lance says, leaning against the wall. “And oh, wait, the Black Power Ranger doesn’t count.”

“Shut up,” Keith grimaces into his coke. “I can think whatever I want.”

“What brought this up anyway?”

 “There’s a lot of what you consider pretty people in this party, but it’s been three minutes and you haven’t made a move on anyone yet,” Keith says, finally looking away from his cup.

“And? What if I’m just waiting for _them_ to make a move on me?”

“Pssh, Lance, please,” Keith arches an eyebrow, smirks. Lance is about to say something rude, but Keith continues. “Also, Hunk’s only been gone for like _three minutes_.”

Has it only been that long? Felt a lot longer without Hunk’s pleasant happy ramblings about his family, or machines or engineering or all of the above.

“…so?” Lance says, his voice small. Now it’s his turn to stare absently into his almost empty red cup.

“So go look for him,” Keith says, exasperated. “You didn’t force us into coming with you just to lose him now, didn’t you.”

“… Why are you suddenly playing matchmaker?”

“… Is that the latest online game or what?”

Lance stares blankly at him. Now _this_ is the usual dense Keith.

“Right, okay.” Lance says, taking another sip of coke. “Why are you suddenly interested in getting us together?”

“Why?” Keith arches another eyebrow as if Lance just asked him the most absurd question. “You don’t want for you guys to get together?”

Lance furrows his eyebrows. If he does ask Hunk out, any of the following futures might happen: (1) Hunk feels the same way, and they’re both happy; (2) Hunk feels the same way but doesn’t want to be in a relationship; (3) Hunk doesn’t feel the same way and it’ll be awkward; (4) Hunk doesn’t feel the same but they both stay friends and pretend it’s not awkward.

There’s only one option that ends with them both being happy, and that’s what Lance decides to hang on to.

“… I’m gonna need a few more drinks for this,” Lance sighs, and pushes off the wall to go to the nearest beer pong table.

“You’re both going to thank me later,” Keith says.

 

 

A few cups of beer and even more trips to the lavatory later, Lance finally finds Hunk tinkering with the fridge with Pidge (in his semi-drunken stupor, he laughs out loud about the rhyme without telling anyone what it is that he suddenly finds funny).

“Yo, Hunk, my man,” Lance says as he drapes his arms around his friend’s shoulders. Hunk’s warmth has always been his most welcome space, and it still is, will still be, for a long time. “And, like, I don’t mean that in a weird way. I mean, _my man_ , as in, my _bro_ kind of man.”

“Uhh, Lance you okay?” Hunk says, standing up from where he’s sitting with Pidge on the floor with a toolbox they had found in the house.

“Yeah, just missing my old buddy ol’ pal,” Lance half-sings, half-dances. Maybe it’s the buzzing in his veins, or maybe it’s Hunk. Screw Keith for being right about something.

“Oh, Lance,” Hunk gushes, a pink hue creeping up his cheeks. “But uh, I mean, we’ve only been separated for around 20 minutes.”

“But I’ve been peeing a whole lot within the past hour—”

“Someone’s been losing at beer pong, I see,” Pidge says, amused.

“Pidge?” Lance says as if seeing her for the first time. “Weren’t you kicking ass at the beer pong table like a second ago?”

“That would be my brother Matt.” Pidge starts gathering and replacing the various apparatuses inside the toolbox. “Hunk, you better look after Lance. We’re done replacing the water inlet valve anyway.”

“Did you check the saddle valve one last—”

“Unblocked,” Pidge says and she stands up as well. “I’ll wrap things up here. Go take care of your boyfriend.”

“ _Not_ a boyfriend,” Lance blurts out as Hunk gives Pidge his thanks and drags his best friend away. Lance continues to blabber, his hands animatedly moving to add unnecessary emphasis to his words. “I mean, he _is_ my friend, and a boy – no, wait, a _man_ , so the better way to put it is a _manfriend_ —”

 

 

Maybe it’s the major confidence boost from beating a couple of people (out of two dozen) at beer pong tonight, or maybe he’s finally reached the limit of this long-standing withdrawal from his innermost and truest feelings, or maybe both. Regardless, he’s got Hunk alone to himself now, and they’re comfortable settled in one of the sofas in the frat house living room.

They’re easily lost in their own little talks and private jokes, almost forgetting they were at a freshman party and not physically alone with only each other’s company. They’re just laughing about something Hunk is saying, and Lance just raises his arms the way he always does as he leans back in laughter, and a hand just casually falls and rests on his best friend’s knee.

Lance suddenly sobers up, all awareness focused at the tips of his fingertips and the inside of his palm.

It’s nothing, _should_ be nothing, really – they’ve taken baths together since they were four, compared penis sizes when they were thirteen, slept at each other’s houses , shared a single straw despite on more than one occasion – so what’s with a hand on Hunk’s knee?

Except that touch might be lingering just a bit longer than what most would consider as platonic or friendly.

Lance’s fingers may or may not be itching to trace patterns on Hunk’s thigh. He wonders, wishes, prays that Hunk would make the brave first move and put his big warm hand over his.

Their laughter fades into an awkward exchange of throat-clearing and ultimately silence as they both fix their eyes on Lance’s hand. Almost too abruptly, Lance tears his hand and eyes away from the strong force and source of temptation. Come on, this is a party, surely there’s bound to be a lot of things more interesting than Hunk’s thigh –

This is the first time Lance looks around them after sitting down with Hunk – and his eyes widen at the sudden realization that they’re the only people on the couches that aren’t, well, smashing their faces together. When did the drunken kissfest even start? Maybe when he got lost in the sparkle in Hunk’s eyes?

“Uh—” Lance tries, but Hunk acts faster.

“Okay, getting kind of R-18 here,” Hunk says, and without preamble he takes Lance’s hand in his, and Lance swears Hunk is suddenly capable of fire bending because holy tits, heat is radiating from his fingers to his entire body.

Hunk stands up first and pulls Lance along with him. They both wordlessly head for the door and into the cool autumn night, the sight of abandoned empty red cups and the sound of inebriated college students and the stereo fading into a blur the farther they walk away from the frat house. Lance’s hand feels clammy wrapped up in Hunk’s warmth. Hunk still doesn’t let go.

Lance begins to wonder if Hunk pulled him out to do their own R-18 things alone. The setting is almost too conducive for doing immoral things – the long empty campus road is flanked by tall thick trees good for hiding behind, the shadows cast by lamplights cast a romantic glow over the grey pavement. Lance feels like even the stars are in silent anticipation of whatever is going to unfold between them – if there _is_ something going to unfold at all.

Hunk still doesn’t let go.

Is it just Lance, or is it too cheesy to be this shoujo-manga level of hopeful? Also, where’s the x1.5% courage bonus from alcohol?

Also, when the hell is anyone going to make a damn move—

“Wow, we’re still kids, huh?” Hunk says, breaking the silence and Lance’s internal monologue along with it.

“Huh?”

“I mean,” Hunk tries again, shrugs. “We’re already in college, and yet we still get kind of cringe-y seeing people kiss – or maybe it’s just me? I don’t know, man, maybe I’m really still just a kid.”

“You bet you are,” Lance chuckles. “You’re still holding my hand in the dark. Real grown-up, my big man.”

“Have I really been—” Hunk says, then his eyes grow wide as if he’s just seen where they’re connected. “Oh.”

Seeing Hunk’s face light up like a tomato makes Lance feel suddenly very embarrassed. Oddly enough, he’s lost all the strength to loosen his grip around Hunk’s giant palm.

“Hey, Hunk—”

“Oh my god, is this weirding you out? Dude, I’m really sorry—”

“No, I kind of really like it—I mean, why would it weird me out? I-I mean, look, we should be past this hand holding thing already—I, you, and then me—what are best friends for if not for holding their bro’s hand when they need – or _want_ it – right?”

Their few minutes of walking in silence suddenly turns into a speedy exchange of awkward glances, incomplete sentences and exaggerated hand moves. Lance doesn’t even think about what he’s saying anymore – let the alcohol drive, after all, if this doesn’t work out he can blame it all on the beer later—

“Hunk, do you just wanna stop ineffectively explaining and maybe start kissing?” Lance says without pausing for breath, his hands paused in midair.

“Uh, _yes_ , and _what_?”

Hunk’s already got Lance at ‘ _yes’_.

Lance moves fast, doesn’t let hesitation give way to fear and insecurity and overthinking. His fingers find Hunk’s collar, his eager hands pull him in close. In that instant he tastes freedom, truth and happiness on his lips, feels courage and security at the sensation of Hunk’s hands flying up to support the back of his neck and cradle his cheek.

That’s all the affirmation Lance needs, that this is _right_ , that it’s going to work out after all.

Lance pries Hunk’s lips open with his tongue and lets the magic explode right in his face as passion overrides every other function in his brain. Hunk seems to know his rhythm so well – they easily move from an awkward swapping of saliva into a harmonious dance of tongue lips and teeth. Lance swears it’s not just his lips that are swollen from the intensity of their kiss, but something inside his pants is absolutely swelling as well—

“Wait wait wait wait.” Hunk abruptly pulls back, breathes. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes incredulous, and his lips glisten with imprints of Lance’s hunger. Hunk’s big hands are on either side of his best friend’s shoulders, locking him in place.

“What?” Lance musters, his courage fading fast. “You don’t like it?”

The question takes Hunk aback like it’s the most absurd thing he’s heard all day.

“No! No, I mean, I do, I’ve been waiting for it a long time but… don’t you … I mean, I always thought you liked girls?”

“I _do_ like girls, and I like boys, too, but… but you’re different,” Lance says, finally finding his voice. “You’re beautiful and you listen to me especially when I’m being quiet. This… _this_ is different. I don’t even know when I began to single you out from everyone else.”

They both stand under the pool of lamplight; Hunk letting Lance’s confession sink into his bones, Lance hoping he’s saying the right things to keep Hunk. Without warning, Hunk’s hands fall from his shoulders and gingerly settle around his waist, and Lance wishes for the world to just stop.

Hunk’s voice is low and quiet when he speaks. “Do you like me in a _I-wanna-kiss-and-make-out-with-you_ way?”

“Much more than everyone else, definitely.”

“ _Lance_.”

“Kidding,” Lance says, places a quick playful kiss on Hunk’s lips. “You’re the one for me, Hunk.”

 

 

They spend the following hour frolicking in the bushes, behind a line of trees that provide them ample cover from anyone who’s not planning to witness some intense(-ly awkward) gay sex on this random evening. Also, Hunk momentarily wonders why Lance keeps a wad of condoms in his jacket’s inner pocket.

Lance swears the stars have long since passed their state of silent anticipation – now they’re all _singing_.

It’s only when they’re lying together on their backs staring at the sky – and discussing about doing R-18 things somewhere much more comfortable like in a room with an actual bed – that Lance remembers about their roommate who had gone to the party with them.

“Oh my god. D’you remember where we left Keith?”

 

 

“ _Fuck_.”

“Kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“Not now, Lance,” Keith says, his hands cradling his aching head. Despite having a hangover, he still insisted in going to class – there’s no way he’s letting Lance one-up him in academics.

“Where _were_ you last night, Keith?” Hunk says.

“Don’t remember,” Keith mumbles and he takes a swig of Gatorade. “All I know is I made out with someone.”

“In _our_ dorm room??” Lance arches an eyebrow. After going back to the frat house to look for their roommate, they had returned empty handed to the dorm, only to find Keith already snoring on his bunk.

“Oh hell no,” Keith puts his eyebrows together as if to conjure the memory of the previous night, or maybe it’s really just the headache. “I wandered out of the frat house for some reason. Then this really hot guy found me and... let me just say I’m kind of disappointed I woke up in _our_ room.”

“That makes two of us,” Lance says.

“Oh, did I cockblock you guys?” Keith says, smirking despite his skull actively breaking inside his head.

Lance’s face burns like a grill as unintelligible sounds escape his lips. Before he can fire a retort, students start piling in from the door, half-gushing and half-squealing about something related to class.

“For real? How lucky!”

“He’s going to sub for a whole week!”

Suddenly the room is filled with expectation and mildly contained excitement. Noises can be heard outside in the hallways of whispering students and of professors who are trying to contain the ruckus.

“Uh, what’s going on?” Hunk asks Pidge as she takes her seat next to them.

 “Professor Zarkon’s out on a vacation for the whole week,” she says. “Apparently there were no other available teachers around who can clear out their schedules to fill in for him, so they got the golden boy to temporarily substitute him.”

Lance stands up in his seat. “You mean—”

And just as he does, the prodigy and legend, his college hero and senior who’s currently their unexpected substitute teacher, enters.

“Good morning, freshmen—I mean, class,” Takashi Shirogane says, his signature smile off to kill ovaries and testicles alike. In the next split second, his eyes fall on the seat behind Lance, and his expression suddenly changes into that of pleasant surprise, yet it is quickly replaced with a look of recognition and… a rather friendly nod of familiarity and acknowledgment?

Lance immediately looks behind him and sees Keith gaping. His face looks ready to cook a meal on 375 degrees.

 _Oh_ , he thinks, and the morning just became a little more interesting.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick thing at work! sshhh don't tell the government i'm procrastinating

“I honestly cannot understand this physics equation,” Keith says in an uncharacteristic dramatic fashion, fingers lost in his hair in passable mock frustration.

Sitting in front of him is a busy Pidge, whose instant reaction to his acting is the simple arching of an eyebrow.

“Wow,” she says, deadpan as she drags her pen along a portion of the margin of her book to attach a leg to her mecha lion doodle. “Interesting how up until the moment Shiro got here in the study hall, _you_ were the science whiz tutoring Lance.”

If Keith were a cat, he would be snarling at her, except he settles for dagger-sharp glares which is the best battle they can have without causing havoc to their surroundings. Over to his side, Lance is lazily tangling his legs with Hunk’s under the table, while they play an unnecessarily intense game of _Cham Cham Cham_ with their hands instead of a toy hammer.

“Oh yeah, we’re definitely getting some progress here,” Keith drawls, an eyebrow arched.

“Don’t be such a sourpuss. Do you want me to call _him_ over so he could give you some private tutoring?” Lance says, and he immediately loses the smugness as his remark earns him a sharp elbow to his side. He grimaces, momentarily pauses to grimace at Keith. “Hey, we’re only studying _here_ instead of our dorm room because you insisted on it.”

Hunk nods in confirmation. “So I take it those couple of weeks of careful observation and espionage-like tailing of the subject—”

“Stalking—!” Lance coughs.

“Okay, _stalking_ ,” Hunk shrugs, but his wide grin betrays his amusement. “I guess all that effort finally paid off and you’re familiar with his daily routine?”

“… now that you say it, it _does_ sound creepy,” Keith mutters, fidgets with the edges of his textbook.

“I like how you’re not denying the stalking,” Pidge remarks, and finally looks up from her doodle. “So, the guy from _that night_ who you made out with and consequently walked you home without doing anything is _still not doing anything_ , and it’s making you want him to do something somehow, and yet you’re embarrassed to do something yourself like actually asking him out, so you settle for lurking in his space. Am I right or am I right?”

Keith’s jaw drops, and he remains gaping soundless because of the accuracy presented.

“Basically, this guy who’s only fantasized about the Black Power Ranger is feeling frustrated over this unresolved potentially romantic or sexual evening?” Lance chimes in, his tone more implying than asking.

“Aw, Keith, you have a real crush,” Hunk smiles (Emphasis on ‘real’. Never mind that Keith had one relationship before – that was in kindergarten and he hadn’t met Hunk yet.). He and his boyfriend have resigned with their game and are settled with simply holding hands on the table.

Keith finally recovers and is about to fire a retort, except he’s interrupted by a string of forced coughs.

“Alert, alert,” Pidge says into her fist, suddenly sober. “He’s coming over.”

It’s true, because Keith catches a whiff of his familiar perfume – a fact he’s automatically embarrassed about because of reasons he’d rather not share even in this narration. He stiffens in his seat, suddenly the air is suffused with so much pheromones that it’s becoming increasingly hard to breathe.

“Hey guys,” Shiro says in a way reminiscent of a politician – _smile and wave_ – except his greeting is all honesty and genuine friendliness and perfect white teeth.

Everyone in their table erupts in a happy and amicable chorus of _Hey_ ’s. All but one.

“Sir,” Keith all but nods at his book, voice almost inaudible and cheeks glowing like fresh tomatoes. The snickering that follows after from his friends doesn’t help the situation at all.

 “I’m not your substitute professor anymore, so you may drop the _Sir_ , Keith. Just _Shiro_ is fine,” Shiro says, but Keith is still avoiding eye contact so he misses the way Shiro bashfully rubs the back of his neck.

Fortunately for both of them, the other three catch the little reactions to put two and two together.

“Hey, Shiro, Keith was just saying he was having a hard time figuring this equation out,” Pidge volunteers, pointing a slender finger on the page of Keith’s book.

“I guess even the top of the class has some difficulties, huh?” Shiro says, and leans close by Keith’s side to peer into the page. Over to the side, Lance and Hunk are biting down on their lips to keep from snickering; Keith had been his most attentive and studious self when Shiro was in class – except he probably (definitely) was being studious about something else apart from physics.

Keith almost visibly jumps from his seat when Shiro brings his hand up on the table.

Naturally, Lance pounces on this little opportunity.

“Nice hands Shiro. I bet they’d look better holding Keith’s.”

If Keith were sipping coffee, he’d choke on it, but because of the lack thereof, he’s quietly internally combusting in his chair instead.

“Nice arms, too,” Hunk says, looking observantly at said muscular frames. “They’d look better around Keith, don’t you think?”

Pidge definitely loses all self-control and she snorts loudly into her book, and Lance is crying through his teeth against her shoulder.

“Wow, real smooth, guys,” Keith stammers. His face is burning, and he may or may not be a little dizzy being in such close proximity to Shiro.

Pidge peers over her book and examines the scene before her. Hunk and Lance are snickering,  fingers laced together on the table. Keith is still flustered and burning holes into the pages of his book. Standing beside him, Shiro looks frozen, cheeks glowing like the sunset.

Maybe Keith isn’t a hopeless case after all.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!  
> kudos and comments are <3


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